A Trace of Steps
by etlitteratim
Summary: A series of drabbles from the prompts of the POTClove lj community, ranging from all characters and subjects. Warning: some slash inside.
1. Honor

Honor

From his balcony, his cozy office overlooking the new face of Port Royal, Lord Cutler Beckett drummed his fingers.

He had a heart – a _literal _heart- he was not in the humor or mind set to muse his _figurative _heart by any means, he had the Port, his enemies were dead or lost, and now he had the man. Norrington was a catch by any means, a skilled leader and fighter. Beckett's lips quirked. "Every dark corner of the map is filling in."

"And where will you go when it's done?" a dry voice asked from the doorframe, the now clean Commodore staring blankly at him. He still stood as he did, as a condemned man with nothing to lose. As a pirate. Some filth can never be washed off, Beckett thought with a surprisingly bitter tone.

"I do not think it's a question of where." Beckett answered, lips thin.

"Perhaps it's a question of honor then." Norrington said. The accusation hung in the air. _A man with nothing to lose…_

"Preaching to the choir…" Beckett muttered, listening to the footfalls in its wake. Outside the fine new clock of the fine new Port struck midnight.


	2. Together

Together

"An' that be it cap'n." Gibbs said, nodding his head. Jack ran a hand over his ornamented beard, gracing Gibbs with his most charming smile.

"Aye, things right and fine, as it were. Enjoy y'self an evening out, Mister Gibbs." Jack said, hand swaying in the air with each word. Gibbs nodded and the two exchanged pleasantries, as they did every evening. When Gibbs left Jack took out his rum, as he did every evening, although it was a far more pleasant ritual.

With rum on his lips and weight on his heart, he stared at the sea. His mistress, as he often said. _I wonder what my dear Commodore may be if she the Mistress,_ Jack thought with a bemused smile on his face.

In the heart of a Spanish port, miles and miles away from the only port he ever quietly called home, he felt something he hadn't in many years. Months out at sea, chases, excitement, booty (in many forms), and now… loneliness?

Jack snorted, taking a long swig of rum. Ha, loneliness. _Homesick_. Bloody Navy. Had ta be full of dashing Commodores. Or just one. As he took another mouthful of his panacea a shock of gold glinted in his vision. He put a grimy hand to his hair, lifting a lock tangled around a small button.

Suddenly Jack's face broke into a warm grin, fingering the token with tender affection. So this was what it meant to be together, he mused. Sitting up straight, he put the button to his lips, resting the cool metal there.

"A kiss for luck love. Be needing it in these seas." He murmured, standing up once more. He felt to ghost of James's hand on his, the ghost of James's lips. His own lips curled to a satisfied smile.


	3. Conceal

Conceal

"I know it upsets you Andrew but you'll have to accept it. It's his choice you know."

Andrew Gillette frowned, crossing his navy clad arms defiantly across his chest and turning his head to the side. Accept it, like it wasn't a violation of Article XXIX, like it wasn't _him_, that sneering asshole that seemed to think he could charm everyone and their mothers. Not that he hadn't succeeded in that, oh no. Just look at the man before him, a seasoned officer _condoning_ a relationship between a _pirate_ and a _Commodore_.

Said seasoned officer, Theodore Groves, sighed deeply, placing his hands on his hips. "Come now Drew, is the pouting really necessary?"

"'m not pouting…" Gillette muttered, glaring with as much hate as he could muster at the other man. Groves simply smiled, placing a comforting hand on his friends shoulder.

"Talk to him. You do know he needs your approval as much as you need his. This is a difficult step for him to make. I trust you to do the right thing." And with that he left the angry officer to his thoughts.

--

He supposed he should have knocked instead of bursting in unannounced, a bad habit of his that was now, as it seemed, being punished. Sparrow was sitting on the Commodore's lap – his _lap_, Gillette thought with a groan- engaging in activities most unbecoming of a Naval man but surely celebrated of a pirate. His sudden entrance stopped the two immediately, Norrington hastily pushing Jack off his person and trying his hardest to suppress the flush on his cheeks. Jack, for his part, couldn't look _less_ pleased with himself, waggling his fingers and flashing a warm smile at Gillette in greeting.

"Gillette love, wot a delightful surprise. Had y' come in a _little_ past ya 'ould have had a real treat." The pirate said gleefully, earning him a smack from lover. Norrington gave Sparrow a stern look, affection leaking through as a smile threatened to break onto his face. Jack raised an eyebrow knowingly, winking in the most indiscrete way possible before ambling for the door. Gillette felt cold fury in his chest at the silent exchange, glaring at Sparrow as he left.

"Don't let ol' Jack keep y' from y' Navy talk. Most improper, an all that." He said as he left, putting on his most put out expression. Gillette watched the door close behind him before advancing on the Commodore's desk. James straightened himself best he could though the flush and various wrinkles in cloth were still overly evident. Andrew caught himself smoothing the other's neck cloth, a flush rising on his own cheeks as he dropped his hands. James regarded him closely for a moment before opening his mouth.

"Andrew, I-"

"James, it's alright." Gillette's sudden response surprised even him. He found the words pouring out of him. "I know you love him and he better pray to God he loves you because I won't stand for anything less. I hate him, I won't lie, but I won't keep you from finding your own happiness James…" he took a deep breath, "Wherever… with _whomever_ it may be."

The smile that touched James's face was enough to stop all the words still on Gillette's tongue.

"Thank you Andrew. That means more to me then anything else."

Gillette forced a smile onto his face as the two began to chat amiably of the most recent set of orders. From the other side of the desk, concealed from James's sight, the nails digging in his tightly clenched fist drew blood.


End file.
